


對手 Competitor

by litanymin



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:40:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23719840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/litanymin/pseuds/litanymin
Summary: Every day Lin Yanjun confesses to a tree.
Relationships: Lin Yanjun/You Zhangjing
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	對手 Competitor

i. m

“I know you can’t hear me and if you could you’d be so annoyed by now,” Yanjun plonks himself down under Wisteria, crossing his legs and locking his fingers behind his head. “Listening to me talk every single day must be terrible and even pitiful. I mean, if I were you I’d want myself to get chopped off right away,” Yanjun laughs, dimples accentuating his cheeks. “But it’s the beginning of the second week of Zhangjing spending his time with me. And, yes, of course, he doesn’t care and doesn’t think about this Monday as our small anniversary but he smiled at me today when I cracked my stupid joke, which I consider the best gift anyone could ever receive on any anniversary,” He pauses and yawns, a light breeze gently rumples his brown hair as he stretches until his back cracks against the bark. “Do you agree, Tree?”

“Who are you talking to?”

Yanjun jerks at the sound and jumps up, fully abandoning the position he was cozy in. He rounds his lips, widely opening his mouth to start hawing excuses or just anything that would be better than the truth. 

There are a couple of books along with a textbook and a copybook, which Zhangjing holds dearly to his chest when he arrives. 

Rolling up the sleeve of his white shirt, Yanjun glances down at the watch that loosely hugs his wrist.

_Oh, right. It’s already 4:18 pm._

Everyday Lin Yanjun waits by the tree.

He chuckles nervously, trying to get a grip of himself. “Oh, no one. No one!” Zhangjing winces as his shoulders rise up abruptly and he is giving him the look of absolute incomprehension as to why he is screaming into his face all of a sudden, Yanjun realizes and changes his tone. “I mean, I was just revising for the material. Did you by any chance hear anything I’d said?”

Zhangjing narrows his eyes and maintains his silence, it lasts for painful seconds and Yanjun swallows heavily, in frustration, more nervous than before. He wants to sink somewhere deep and disappear so that nobody (Zhangjing) could ever find him.

“Nah,” Zhangjing shakes his head finally, smiling faintly for the second time this day, which Yanjun detects effortlessly. “Just heard something about a tree and that’s that.”

When he exhales, he realizes he’s been holding his breath all this time.

Every day Lin Yanjun meets You Zhangjing to study by the tree.

***

The branches of Wisteria are hanging down and the lavender-blue leaves are reaching the top of Zhangjing’s head when he leans forward, a little far from the trunk. He seems to be deep in his thoughts as he searches for the page they stopped at in his book, eyes scanning the lines and dozens of words quickly. 

Yanjun finds himself mesmerized by the image he is lucky to witness. It’s peaceful and calming, and the anxiety of the upcoming adulthood seems to cease when he occupies the space beside Zhangjing. 

For some reason, Yanjun cannot take his eyes off him.

“Well, since you revised everything by yourself, then tell me all the grammar rules we’d learned last week,” Zhangjing speaks unexpectedly when he ends up finding the right paragraph in the book.

Yanjun clears his throat and looks away. Dumbfounded. 

The thing is, Yanjun’s not a smart kid among his classmates. More than that, he’s far from being diligent when it comes to studying. Of course, he knows stuff, he isn’t completely blunt and doughy and he can tell a lot about music and what instruments are made of, about lyrics he writes during the night, or how different sounds make him feel. Yet in life these significant only to him pieces of knowledge never play the main role. 

It’s the reason why Zhangjing, who is the top of the class in all subjects, has been forced to tutor him for half a month, so that his grades would improve, so that he could pass the exams and apply for the university. So that he could find something for himself. Perhaps, somewhere else.

The future fills him with dread, so the less time Yanjun spends dwelling on it or reminding himself of what he must do to live on and become what the society wants him to after the semester comes to its end, the better.

“So?” Zhangjing pushes him impatiently.

Yanjun clears his throat again as if showing he’s ready to recite the essential grammar rules but actually searching for them in his head. There must be something he couldn’t have missed, it was just three days ago, on Friday when he and Zhangjing were discussing how Past Tenses in English work. 

But the necessary information is nowhere to be found, and what was left of it just a moment ago is now replaced by images of the same evening on Friday. 

Yanjun takes a breath, whether of frustration or annoyance or of realization.

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Zhangjing lifts his eyebrows, folding his arms over his chest and fully turning towards him. 

“How so?”

Coming up with lies is the last option he wants to use when he is with Zhangjing, but telling the truth is still the most challenging part.

“You know how I’m not smart and all of that—”

Zhangjing lets out a loud groan, rolling his eyes. “We’re not doing this right now.”

“What?”

“We’re not discussing who’s smart and who’s not, we’re not here for this.” He says quite strictly, and Yanjun swears he hates seeing him this way, so he simply nods to change the current mood of tension.

Zhangjing seizes the book again but now draws it up to Yanjun. He points his finger at the first paragraph on the page.

“Let’s read it all again then.”

And this is how it goes.

Every day the branches of Wisteria become lower, drooping, as if not enduring the weight of its own leaves.

Zhangjing would bring books and his own lecture notes to show them to Yanjun because the latter never writes down what the teachers dictate during classes. He would read out what he’s put down and let Yanjun repeat it after him, letting him study the new information through hearing because he’s figured out it’s the most convenient way to learn for him.

Every day Yanjun feels the heaviness of the leaves in his lungs.

ii. t

“Good afternoon, Tree,” Yanjun smiles, squeezing the lavender leaf between his index finger and his thumb delicately, greeting Wisteria with a sort of handshake. “Good to see you still hanging in there. Must be hard to carry the weight of so many beautiful leaves but I’m proud of you, I truly am.” 

He lies down, changing the position of the previous day. Yanjun stamps the grass blades flat with his back when he settles there. The rays of sunshine are striking leaves and some graze his face, only partially, droplets of the light patchily blind him, making him close his eyes completely and enjoy the warmth of them against his skin.

A deep breath. Heaviness fills up his lungs again.

“Yesterday, while crossing our bridge, we stayed on it for a bit and watched the sunset. It was breathtaking, though most of the time we spent there I couldn’t stop looking at Zhangjing. You should have seen his expression, he was so— I don’t even know— so peaceful looking. You know, when I look at him, I feel at peace. It also feels like something I’ve experienced before. Is it strange? Because I know I never experienced such a thing with anyone in the past. Well, not that I have friends or anything besides Zhangjing,” Yanjun murmurs as he chuckles almost silently, relaxed and on the verge of falling into what seems like a deep dream. He feels weightless and his eyelids refuse to shift. “I’m scared, Tree. Scared of what I’m feeling. I can’t explain it and it’s what I’m most scared of for now,” Yanjun begins, and the leaves of Wisteria slap his forehead when the wind blows. “Don’t have to be so harsh!” He crinkles his nose.

“Talking to yourself or revising again? I can never tell.”

At first, Yanjun cracks his left eye open, and he cannot believe this is happening to him again, so he closes it again, honing. Being careful with words he pronounces out loud has never been his forte. Knowing himself, he should have sued his mouth a long time ago. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been standing here listening to me rumble nonsense the whole time.” Yanjun heaves another groan.

Zhangjing stares down at him, standing on the left side of his body, and Yanjun, when he opens his eyes ever so slightly to peek, if he weren’t in his right state of mind, would swear he looks breathtaking even upside down. Like yesterday’s sunset. His heart races and he doesn’t understand the meaning behind this change. 

The same look, the same pause. Yanjun can endure it but only for a limited time. He shuts his eyes for good because he can never let himself look directly in his eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re so worried that I would hear you talk to yourself but I didn’t, I was in my headphones when I came and when I took them off I’d only heard you mumble something I didn’t even get,” Zhangjing explains. “Don’t need to be so alert.”

Yanjun inhales. He trusts Zhangjing’s words, he wouldn’t lie to him, would he? If he listened in, he would most likely mock him or joke about the whole situation.

He would laugh at him if he found out.

“I brought you coloured paper to learn better but I won’t give it to you if you keep lying with your eyes closed.”

At this, Yanjun gives up. 

***

The blue-coloured paper is matted and is nice to the touch. Yanjun’s fingertips tighten on the nooks seamlessly to connect them and fold in the needed way as he listens to Zhangjing speak about another rule.

What he is aiming at is a boat.

Zhangjing’s voice calms him down. More often than he allows himself to, Yanjun gets distracted by the way the syllables form and the words spill out, by the way he pronounces them softly, quietly, as if afraid of disturbing nature. As if afraid to wake their silent companion up.

Every day Wisteria falls asleep at 4:18 pm.

“The coloured paper wasn’t for you to have fun with, by the way.”

Yanjun snorts almost inaudibly, smirking with the right corner of his mouth. A dimple emerges on his cheek on the same side.

“What are you making?” He asks when he doesn’t get any answer from the other.

Zhangjing puts away his copybook and casts a glance at Yanjun’s hands, which are carefully working with the blue piece of paper to make out something of this that would look remotely like a boat. And it does, when he finishes tucking the last nook.

“A boat.”

Yanjun raises his hand, with his fingertips seizing the origami piece, to show it off, and Zhangjing moves up closer, his hip collides with Yanjun’s and his first instinct to this proximity is to draw back to another side because there is no personal space and it’s all suffocating him at once.

But Yanjun remains still because he doesn’t know when and if there will be another opportunity to experience all of this again.

Heaviness in his chest never ceases.

“Why a boat?”

“So that I could have one.” Yanjun shrugs, answering without thinking twice.

“You want to have a boat?” 

Another question and Zhangjing brings himself nearer, sending an abrupt look at Yanjun when whispering it into the serenity of nature’s sleep, and then aiming it at the blue boat in Yanjun’s hand. 

Heaviness in his chest is replaced by tightness in his abdomen, and Yanjun is on the verge of feeling dizzy.

“Yeah, why not?” Yanjun wonders, his voice begins to tremble intact with his hand. “I could go anywhere if I had a boat. Without it I’m stuck here.”

“But first you should know where to go, shouldn’t you?” Zhangjing furrows his eyebrows, watching the fragile boat. A fascinating change in Zhanging’s expression, Yanjun notices. “Wouldn’t it feel lonely if you went wherever the road takes you?”

Yanjun thinks for a bit, dwelling on another question and the reason behind Zhangjing’s sudden interest in such. He glances over his shoulder to see Wisteria flutter its leaves in the wind, the bark is half invested with the moss.

He also wonders if it has been standing here before the school’s foundation, living in complete loneliness and solitude before he decided to disturb its peace one day. 

“And where is the fun in knowing the exact path?” Yanjun returns his attention to the origami boat. “Better not to have any idea, you will end up where you belong, doesn’t matter if you know where you’re going or not.”

His heart skips a beat. Then two. Zhangjing brushes his hand against his when he steals the blue boat from him and places it on the flat of his other palm.

“Are you scared of what the future holds?”

Yanjun thinks some more.

It is easy to gaze at Zhangjing when he is occupied with a book or his notes, or with just anything. Easy when Yanjun doesn’t receive the same attention he gifts him because if Zhangjing were to fully look into his glazed eyes he would figure him out right away. 

Strangely, Zhangjing knows him too well.

Yanjun exhales, finally drawing back because the proximity is choking him.

“I think we all are.”

Wisteria fondly pats Zhangjing’s head when he nods.

iii. w

“Yesterday we took a bus on the way home.” 

Standing by Wisteria and patting its old rugged trunk, Yanjun inspects the surroundings, making sure Zhangjing is nowhere near to be found for him to listen in.

When he makes sure the coast is clear, he sits down in front of Wisteria, propping one of his elbows against his knee.

“Since it was late the bus was empty, it was its last tour through the city,” Yanjun places his palm over the bark, caressing the roughness of it, trying to flatten the ragged twisted lines but failing—those have been permanently curved into it. “Zhangjing took out his earphones, gave me one, we listened to his favorite songs. It was peaceful, have I mentioned this word before? I say it a lot to you but this is how spending time with Zhangjing feels like, but besides everything being peaceful it’s suddenly becoming more overwhelming with each passing day, and I still can’t find an explanation to all of this. Every time I look at him I feel like everything that happens between me and him has already happened before. It’s impossible, though.”

Warmth spreads through his veins and something heavy springs upon him when he remembers the images. He wishes he could have captured them with a camera.

“Zhangjing told me about music, we had a long conversation about genres and instruments, and it was the first time I genuinely enjoyed talking to someone,” Yanjun strokes Wisteria absentmindedly, the place is void of sounds except for those nature produces, and for a moment he loses track of time. “The sky was coloured with different shades of red, and some of the remaining rays of the sun were still reaching us. It was beautiful, Tree. He’s beautiful,” Yanjun breathes out and then lifts his chin to meet the view that Wisteria is granting him without asking for something in return. “I wish I could stop feeling this way, you know. It’s messing with my head, and you’re most likely fed up with me blurting out poetic stuff to you every single day.”

A light touch that hits his shoulder makes Yanjun shriek and wrap his arms around the tree, whether protecting Wisteria or himself that way.

“I can’t believe you still act like this when I show up,” Zhangjing laughs. “Do you always forget we meet here at the exact same time every day?”

Yanjun unhooks his arms when he hears the familiar voice coming from the rear. His cheeks gain a florid colour and he refuses to turn around.

“I can’t believe you still sneak on me and scare me like that, knowing well enough I’m fragile and could not possibly survive such jumpscares.”

“So dramatic,” Zhangjing’s hand returns to his shoulder, now tugging backward. “Come on, we have a lot to cover up today. Our exam’s in exactly two days, including today, we don’t have much time to fool around.”

A lavender leaf escapes Wisteria and crashes against his crown when he lets go.

***

“To be honest, I have no idea why we need this topic in life but,” The corners of Zhangjing’s lips curl up. “Trees and different types of trees.”

Zhangjing pulls up his textbook and flicks through the pages until he stumbles across the one with coloured pictures of trees. There are words in italics under each image and Yanjun rounds his eyes when he notices the familiar tree in the book. He inhales with a sound and Zhangjing hums questioningly, angling his head while looking at him.

He still wants to call it in the way he’s used to.

“That’s our Tree.” He points at it.

“Wisteria, yeah.” 

As if overhearing the conversation and its mention, another leaf flies until it drops onto the open book, a few inches away from the illustration of the tree. Zhangjing picks it up and analyzes it for a moment, twirling it with his fingertips, left to right and then back. Wisteria’s vines are weighing down, some almost reach the ground behind his back.

“Did you know that each tree symbolizes something?”

Yanjun nods.

“Wisteria has its own meaning, too,” Zhangjing begins. “That of nostalgia.”

Afraid to speak a word and disturb the peace, Yanjun sits rigidly.

“You know some trees can live up to one hundred years or even more. This tree,” Zhangjing nods in the direction of Wisteria. “It’s been here for a long time, judging by the way it looks. One can experience the sensation of nostalgia when standing by it because Wisteria has seen a lot throughout its long life. And it kind of absorbs what is happening before it.”

Spellbound, Yanjun doesn’t move, his lips slightly apart, and he is slowly realizing the effect that Wisteria has on him. But then he dares to cast a quick look at Zhangjing who is staring into the distance and becomes aware of how it’s not even about the veins of the tree that softly brush across his hair, intertwining with it when the wind blows.

“Sorry, I’m just rambling, let’s just get to the topic and learn new words.”

***

Most of the time, Zhangjing would pay all of his attention to the book, repeating the new words, slowly, giving Yanjun perfect opportunities to watch him from his position on the left side. The dizziness that it brings to his head stupefies him, and not within reasonable limits.

There should be guilt inside of him for not listening to what Zhangjing is saying but rather centering around his voice and the way it sounds. Centering around his features, wondering about how breathtaking the picture of him next to Wisteria would be. He wishes he could chase this image, imprint it in his memory so that it would never leave even when Wisteria becomes so old and hoary it will no longer endure the burden of its own veins.

“Why are you looking at me this way?”

Yanjun blinks, his vision blurry. Once, twice.

Wisteria is so halcyon it is almost invisible. If he didn’t feel its abristle bark with his spine he would swear there is nothing behind him, as if the tree never existed at all.

“I’m not, I was just—” Yanjun starts, stammering and finding himself absolutely startled because for the first time in two weeks he’s looking into Zhangjing’s eyes. Properly and without anything covering him up.

Heat bubbles up in his lungs, heaviness is never gone, just waits in its somnolence to join him in full strength. Yet everything is mixed with the pleasant scent of the coloured leaves, and the blue origami boat that Yanjun folded yesterday is now holding its rightful place in Zhangjing’s bag, peeking out from time to time.

A beat, then another. Yanjun’s sure nature can hear how loud he is. Being disturbing and deafening with his heart. He swallows around the lump in his throat, to get a grip of himself, and it’s almost impossible to breathe normally but he keeps this up. For as long as he must.

He keeps this up until he can’t.

“Fooling around again?” Zhangjing blows out a puff of air, being the first to turn his face away. “You know you can’t fail this one, so please focus.”

Zhangjing doesn’t look at him for the rest of the evening. Even when Wisteria timidly fondles his left cheek, trying not to scare him away, as if hinting at something Yanjun doesn’t get at first.

After a prolonged moment Yanjun understands the meaning behind all of this.

Wisteria sheds a few more leaves.

iv. t

“We thought it would be a good idea to have a walk.”

Yanjun settles under Wisteria for the millionth time. It is a habit by now, yet the positions are the only matter that is versatile. Now he rolls onto his stomach, face towards the stem, palms propping his chin. Like a little kid, he wiggles his legs, back and forth. Strange how there is still a portion of energy stored somewhere in him despite not being able to fall asleep last night.

“My legs are so sore, Tree,” He murmurs, barely keeping his eyes from shutting. “I challenged Zhangjing to run towards our bridge, and I said I would be the one to reach it first, but,” He chuckles with a rasp, both dimples adorn his cheeks, eyes fully closed now. “Well, I tumbled over, fell on my face, Zhangjing won. For the rest of our walk he wouldn’t stop praising himself and laughing at me, also jumping in front of me in excitement and all,” Yanjun pines away. “I think I’m falling, Tree.”

Another waft of wind, Yanjun draws a deep breath, heaviness in his lungs is pooling with the bloom of Wisteria and the crispness of the morning. It all imbues him.

“I couldn’t sleep last night because I kept thinking about what I feel, and I feel like I’ve known it since the beginning but couldn’t admit it to myself, and you’re right here every time, so I’m confessing to you,” Yanjun purrs with a weary grin. “The fall is overwhelming and peaceful at the same time, and it’s full of nostalgia and memories. I wish I could capture it and keep it to myself.”

Yanjun falls.

***

Zhangjing looks tired when he arrives. He doesn’t come unexpectedly, he doesn’t make Yanjun jump in his skin. Quietly, Zhangjing shows up, and today it is not their designated time. For the first time he seems as if he hasn’t gotten any sleep either, and maybe it is the fact that it’s too early in the morning. 

Yanjun perceives a slight shift in his expression just because he had time to watch him for the past two weeks. But, at the same time, Yanjun would lie if he said he himself looked better. Must be the nerves from the upcoming exam in the afternoon.

He would blame it all on the exam but he would also lie if he said the change in his own mood was caused by the worry of such a trivial matter in his life.

The approaching summer washes Yanjun with its affection, and his white shirt clings to his back. He takes off the knitted vest and throws it away where his brown leather bag is scattered carelessly. 

The gnawing wish to ask Zhangjing if he is well settles deeply in his abdomen, but when he dares to say the first word of the question Zhangjing is quick to begin his talk about how today is the day of the exam and how they must revise everything they have learned throughout the two week period before everything starts.

Yanjun remains silent, the discomfort washes over him, sinking, and he notices how Wisteria doesn’t dare to touch either of them this time as if afraid its veins would hurt and damage what is still left of this.

Concentrating as much as Yanjun can in his drowse, he doesn’t note the exact moment Zhangjing falls asleep, with his knuckles supporting his left cheek. The first minute he is speaking about the last topic on the types of trees, and the next it is suddenly too quiet.

Yanjun observes, the view is so serene he has another urge to capture it. And then a bulb lights up above his head, he brings his hands up and makes a rectangle with his thumbs and index fingers.

Capturing the image.

It’s childish, Yanjun knows it well. He probably looks ludicrously this way but at least it’s something.

A wayward strand of hair is reaching Zhangjing’s eyelid, and Yanjun is not allowed to touch him in any way but his fingertips tingle when he gazes. In the next moment, cautiously, he tucks the strand behind Zhangjing’s ear. And the more his hand stays there, the more it wants to touch.

Without lingering over the thought of all of this being forbidden, Yanjun lowers his hand down, now caressing his cheek and feeling the silk velvet under his own skin.

Wisteria is too quiet as if imitating Yanjun and suspending its own breath.

Now it’s the one not willing to disrupt the moment.

His heart pounds because he knows he shouldn’t be doing this, yet his hand is still there, evenly placed over Zhangjing’s cheek. It is wrong yet it feels like the rightest thing he has done. His thumb caresses his cheekbone then, and he doesn’t inhale more.

It’s warm. And peaceful. And full of nostalgia. And he wishes he could always be here to capture this.

“What are you doing?”

When Zhangjing wakes up, sounding blearily, Yanjun removes his hand, hiding it behind his back as if it will help erase the memory of this embarrassing act.

“Nothing, just,” Yanjun coughs, exasperated, and he brings his hands up again, flexing his joints. “Just exercising my hands and fingers. So that I could win you in arm wrestling.”

Zhangjing sneers.

“You’re so strange, I can’t believe this.” He says, and it doesn’t sound bad coming from him.

For some reason, Yanjun senses a hue of fondness behind those words.

“So this is another challenge, isn’t it?” He speaks again.

There is a nod when Yanjun stretches his arm and offers his hand.

Wisteria remains silent for the rest of the morning.

v. f

“I’m scared, Tree,” Yanjun breathes out when he stops running towards the same threadbare spot under Wisteria. “I’m scared of knowing the results, but I don’t know if the reason for me being scared is that I don’t want to find out if I’ve failed or I don’t want to find out if I’ve actually passed. Maybe, it’s both.”

Yanjun keeps standing by the tree, insides jolting, as he clenches the piece of paper with the results he received just a few minutes ago during his class. He feels so sick that it is better if he doesn’t move at all. He cannot find any peace in himself, and he wishes it could be easier.

Wisteria has been quiet since yesterday. Yanjun can tell it can’t hear him, unlike all the times he has come here to share his heaviness with it. He wonders if the reason why Wisteria is bending to this extent is not because of the weight of its veins and lavender leaves but it is because it has taken so much weight off Yanjun’s shoulders.

Yanjun remembers Zhangjing’s words about old trees consuming memories.

“Please, hear me out,” Yanjun comes up to Wisteria and puts his palm onto its bark, then he looks up as if facing it, trying to see its hidden by the veins face. “We rode my bicycle last evening. I’m still surprised it could cope with it and carry us both to the bridge,” He grins but then the smile fades away, concealing any hint of it. “He was so close to me, Tree. So damn close. And I wish,” He suddenly chokes on his words, and the new burn, previously not known by him, welts his eyes. “I wish Zhangjing hadn’t been the one chosen to tutor me because—”

“Hey.”

Yanjun brings his arm up and with an abrupt motion he runs his white sleeve along his eyes. With an exhale and a forced smile he turns around, now facing Zhangjing.

“I can’t believe you ran away without telling me your results.” 

A hint of something Yanjun cannot put any word to colours Zhangjing’s voice, the same emotion invades his expression, and he keeps watching, now frightened if he averts his eyes, it will be over too soon, and he is not ready for this to end. Not now.

“How did you find me?”

“I’m surprised you’re asking me this question,” Zhangjing comes closer. Too close for Yanjun to sense his breath on his chin. And then his regard falls on the piece of paper crumpled in Yanjun’s fist, hand grazing it. “May I?”

Looking down at him, noticing something of a plea and expectations brimming in his eyes, Yanjun loosens his grip for Zhangjing to take the piece into his own.

And he is so, so scared.

***

Yanjun walks along the bridge, various shades of scarlet, and amber, and rose are pooling on the wood of the construction, around him and Zhangjing. And it is the same beaten path, their footprints curved, incised to each spot and part of it, and Yanjun is overwhelmed by the same worn-out feeling.

It is a mixture of everything. The dew of the evening and the brightness of the sun that is almost sheltered behind the horizon, and Zhangjing walks next to him. 

He dares to cast him the last glance for today, though afraid he will see what he is expecting.

And, of course, there it is.

The furrow, the crease between his eyebrows, corners of the lips downcast, and the view is what makes Yanjun stop. Only a few seconds after Zhangjing comes to a halt, too, and turns around, to where Yanjun is standing.

A moment of stillness, Yanjun tilts his head to the side and simply watches, for some reason he is not scared of looking at him so openly anymore. He has nothing to lose.

“You’re sad.”

Zhangjing scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because I can see the change,” Yanjun sighs and then steps forward, throwing his hand up to point at him. “I can see it clearly.”

One more step, then two, and three.

Zhangjing shakes his head, accompanied by a barely audible _don’t_ when Yanjun holds his arms out. 

“Come on.”

Another shake. Another _don’t_.

“Come here.”

Zhangjing chews on his lip as if contemplating while still protectively holding himself with his locked arms, and Yanjun waits.

He waits because it is the only thing left to do, no matter how much time passes from now on.

“Please.” 

One more.

“We won’t see each other.”

A nod.

“Maybe we’ll meet again someday.”

Another nod.

And at this, Zhangjing seems to give up, unwrapping his own arms and making the needed step forward.

 _So this is what it feels like_.

He doesn’t say more, just watches the waves of the sea lapping at the shore, while the sun still sets the same way it did the first time he encountered it with Zhangjing on the way home. His chin rests on top of Zhangjing’s head, and he can feel how firmly he is holding onto the back of his white shirt, his fists tightening up around the fabric. 

Knocking the time-worn heaviness out of his chest.

And Yanjun feels at peace.

Nostalgia washes over him.

For an unknown while, Wisteria will be deep in its sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> A gift to special someone.


End file.
